Seven Survivors
by Someone aka Me
Summary: Seven survivors and their experiences the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. I. Padma. II. Hannah. III. Katie. IV. Luna. V. Percy. VI. Charlie. VII. Draco. "But safety is not an option. Here, tonight, safety doesn't exist."
1. Padma Patil

For the Point of View in a Week Challenge

I received the final battle as told by Padma, Charlie, Percy, Draco, Hannah, Luna, and Katie as my prompts.

I own nothing.

"_Seven Survivors"_

_Padma Patil_

Padma catches Parvati's arm as everyone stampedes out of the Room of Requirement. Lavender, as usual, comes with her.

" 'Vati, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Padma says. Parvati's eyes are dancing, her cheeks flushed with adrenaline.

"What do you mean, Padma?" she asks.

"Look, people are going to get hurt out there, Parvati," Padma reasons. "People are going to _die_."

"You're scared," Parvati realizes.

Padma disagrees. "I'm looking at the facts. I'm looking at the odds, and they don't look good."

"Pads, look at me." Padma hasn't been looking her in the eye. "This is _our school_. This is _our life_, and they took it over and turned it into something else. But this," she gestures around, encompassing the whole event taking place, "this is our chance to take it back. This is our chance to take our _life_ back. Maybe you want to let that pass you by because you're scared, but I won't."

"You're such a Gryffindor, 'Vati," Padma says, shaking her head. Parvati smirks.

"And you're such a Ravenclaw. Let go of your cool logic for a moment and just _feel._"

Suddenly, Padma has her arms around her sister. "I don't want to lose you, 'Vati. I don't know what I'd do."

"Hey, hey," Parvati says softly. "You're not going to lose me. I promise you that."

Padma laughs once, harshly. "You can't promise that, Parvati."

But Parvati's eyes are dancing again. "I can," she says confidently. "I can, because I've got a genius by my side, don't I?"

And Padma's convinced that Parvati has finally gone insane with optimism, but maybe she's right. They've always been stronger together. "Always," Padma murmurs softly in response to Parvati's question.

Lavender sighs. "If you two are quite finished? We're missing the battle!"


	2. Hannah Abbott

_Hannah Abbott_

She's trembling as the battle around her begins in earnest. Yes, she was a member of the DA. Yes, she'd heard Harry talk about how you can't learn _life_ in a classroom. She'd heard him explain that Defense in real life is a little bit of skill and a lot of luck.

But there's a reason Hannah is not a Gryffindor. And she'd, quite frankly, much rather never have to face real life at all, not if it's going to be raw and scary like this.

She's spent the last year being afraid, though, and she's sick and tired of it. She's tired of cowering, of shaking, of trembling. She's tired of believing that there's nothing she can do – she's just Hannah.

_Maybe just Hannah isn't so bad a person to be,_ she tells herself. _Maybe just Hannah is good enough. _

An orange burst of light hits the wall near her head, and she squeaks. Apparently, she doesn't have much of a choice in the matter, at the moment. Her options are do nothing and likely die, or do something and maybe have a slightly smaller chance of dying.

Well, gee, doesn't that sound happy?

Hannah wonders, as she begins firing off spells, when she became so cynical. She's always been a sunshine and rainbows kind of girl – her bedroom back home is pastel pink, and she loves it that way. She's used to seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses. She's used to seeing the best in people.

But this year – it's changed people. It's changed everyone, and Hannah is in no way exempt from that. This year was the year she was forced to face the darkness, acknowledge it, and then determine for herself that it had no place in her life – she decided right off that she wasn't going to let the darkness rule her.

Hannah's never been afraid of the dark, but she's always been afraid of the Dark. This year, she confronted that. She confronted that without her mother, who had always been her support.

This year, Hannah grew up. And tonight, everything comes to a head. It all ends here, and Hannah is a part of that – and proud to be. She's proud of what she's done this year.

But just because she's proud, just because she's stronger, that doesn't mean she's brave. And she'd rather not have to be. She'd rather just be safe, with no need for bravery whatsoever.

But safety is not an option. Here, tonight, safety doesn't exist.

And Hannah is not going to run away, because while she may not be brave, she is not a coward, and she is _not_ going to leave her friends to die.

She will_ not._

So she fights, shooting only Stunners, because Hannah doesn't like pain and she doesn't like suffering, and she knows better than to even try for a kill, because that's not her. She's a deeply rooted pacifist at heart. Hannah's perfect world is the one where everyone gets along.

But they don't live in a perfect world. They live in a flawed one, and so Hannah fights, because she has to.


	3. Katie Bell

_Katie Bell_

When she first feels the Galleon in her pocket burn, Katie's more than a little bit surprised.

When she takes it out of her pocket and reads the message, though, she's even more surprised. Harry Potter, who's been missing nearly a year, has shown up at Hogwarts. They're taking back the school.

A rush of excitement floods her. This, she is forced to admit, is even better than Quidditch – though she'd never tell that to Oliver, of course.

Speaking of Oliver, Katie remembers abruptly that he was never a part of the DA – he wouldn't have a Galleon.

She Floos his house, yelling before she's even out of the fireplace. "Oliver Wood, you'd better be here! This is important!"

Oliver looks up calmly from the couch in front of the fireplace. "No need to shout." He smirks, and Katie scowls at him in return.

"This is serious, Oliver!"

Oliver sobers. "What is it?"

"They're taking back Hogwarts! Potter's there, and they've required whatever help available!"

"You're serious?"

"I'm serious! It all ends tonight, one way or another." Katie knows her eyes are shining. She's exhilarated. This is _exciting_.

Oliver stretches off the couch fluidly – there's no urgency in his movements, which bothers Katie.

"Come _on_, Oliver! Get moving!"

Oliver strides to his bedroom even slower than he normally would, just to irk her.

"Oliver!" Katie cries, exasperated. "Now is not the time!" He chuckles and moves at a normal pace, throwing on robes and grabbing his wand holster.

He doesn't seem to understand how Katie feels right now. Every nerve ending is tingling with excitement and anticipation. She's buzzing. This, she knows, is her chance. This is her chance to really do something good, to really make a difference.

This is her chance to make up for nearly allowing herself to be the murder weapon used against her late Headmaster. Katie sighs. She doesn't want to think about that. Not now, not ever.

She doesn't _want _to blame herself. She knows, rationally, that Draco Malfoy – the little spoiled prat – put her under the Imperious Curse, and it's a rare witch that can throw that spell off. Still, she can't help but think that if it hadn't been for Leanne's stubborn suspicions, Katie would have unknowingly been an accessory to murder.

And that is _not_ all right with her.

So that's what tonight is to her. It's more than adrenaline, she realizes. It's more than just anticipation buzzing in her veins. It's more than the chance to fight, to _do _something after being passive for so long. It's the chance to make up for what she almost did.


	4. Luna Lovegood

_Luna Lovegood_

Luna finds herself a bit bemused, though she wonders if perhaps that may not be the best of emotions, at the time. Still, she is.

She supposes that this is likely due to the fact that everything seems to be happening so rapidly, and no one seems to be acting like they're supposed to. Prim Professor McGonagall is a force to be reckoned with, steadfast Professor Snape jumped out a window, and the rest of the school is just plain fidgety. Luna wonders absently if the sudden infestation of blajicks is the cause of this anticipation or a result of it. Either way, no one else seems to notice them, so Luna doesn't mention it.

In the past few weeks, Dean seems to have become rather protective of her, so Luna has been absently traveling with Dean and Seamus since the adventure with Harry – the attempt to find Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem.

The three of them have been stalking up and down hallways, waiting for something to happen. Seamus is bouncing on the balls of his feet, seemingly excited. This doesn't surprise Luna in the least – she's only met him this year, but she already knows Seamus doesn't seem to fear danger like normal people; he's thrilled by it.

Dean, on the other hand, has gone still. There's no extra movements – he walks clinically, conserving energy. This is odd, because Dean normally has unusually twitchy hands that don't stop moving, ever. He's always drawing something in his mind, and his hands move along the strokes. But not tonight.

Luna wonders if perhaps her own behavior is different from usual. It doesn't feel like it is, in any particularly noticeable way, but she supposes it could be. She wonders, if it's different, how so. Seamus and Dean, both make sense in the ways they're currently acting. Seamus is on an adrenaline high, and Dean's mind is fully occupied with something other than art.

So she considers her thought process, and how it might be different. It doesn't particularly feel different, but then, how exactly does one deduce whether she is thinking differently? She supposes that it doesn't particularly matter in the end, but still, a person wonders. Or, well, Luna wonders, anyway. Dean and Seamus are probably thinking nothing of the sort.

But Luna's always been deeply curious. It's that, she thinks, that likely landed her in the house of the Raven, because she's not really much for cool logic. She tends to work her way around a problem and approach it from the back. It works for her, and she's not one to question things that work.

It's not until the figure comes around the corner, though, that Luna realizes that her behavior is, in fact, different from usual. She's on high alert, ears tuned, eyes peeled.

The slightest 'swish' of a cloak on cold stone floor is below her hearing threshold, but some part of her brain registers it without telling her conscious mind, so when the person comes around the corner, he's on the ground, stunned, before Luna has even registered that she saw him.

Seamus's jaw drops, and Dean raises his eyebrows at her. Luna just smiles in return.

Dean shrugs and jerks his head, gesturing toward the person on the ground. In synch, the three of them approach.

It's Dean that recognizes the features first. "Colin?"

Luna blinks and realizes that Dean is correct – the boy she stunned is Colin Creevey. _"Finite Incantatem."_

Colin groans, sitting up. He glances around, somewhat surprised at the faces.

"Colin," Luna says softly. "What are you doing here?"

Colin looks down. "I felt the Galleon burn. I've been checking it constantly and… I couldn't. I couldn't stay home. This is _it_!"

"And where's Dennis?" Luna asks serenely. "He has a Galleon."

Colin keeps his eyes on the floor. "I took it. But he saw me leave, and he asked, but I told him to stay home." Colin looks up, suddenly defensive. "It's too dangerous for him here!"

Seamus laughs, but not cruelly. "If it's too dangerous for him, kid, what makes it safe for you?"

Colin stands up, huffing. "I'm not a kid! I'm sixteen years old, and I'm am perfectly capable of making my own choices!"

"All the underage people have been evacuated," Seamus says.

Colin's eyes widen. "Please, don't. This is my school as much as anyone else's, and they forced me out of it, running for my life. You've got to let me have this chance to claim it back."

Luna smiles at Colin. Dean, though, frowns, pursing his lips. He glances at Seamus, who is frowning in thought.

"Seamus," Dean says – that's all he says, but Seamus appears to get a lot more meaning out of it than Luna does. Luna is intriguied by this, as she's never actually seen Dean and Seamus together before. She met Seamus at the beginning of the year, at school, and Dean after Christmas, on the run. The way they interact fascinates her.

Seamus nods at Dean. "I know, but…"

Dean tilts his head, considering. Eventually, he nods minutely. Seamus looks mildly surprised, but he turns to Colin.

"As long as you're well aware that you're not allowed, you're well aware that this is dangerous, we won't say anything. Stick close by, though."

Luna sees something shining in Colin's eyes – relief.

"Thank you," he says. "We – Dennis and I – finally found a place where we belong. I'm not going to let them take that from us."


	5. Percy Weasley

This resides in the same universe as my story _Thawing Out_, though it is easily read without reading that one first.

_Percy Weasley_

He still feels a bit out of place, and he knows that he and his family are going to need to talk after this, but right now, he's just mad. He's not sure he's ever been this mad in his life, nor has he ever been so convinced that _life isn't fair. _He finally stuffed his pride down far enough to apologize. He finally made things right with his family.

And now Fred's gone. Fred's gone, and it's _all Percy's fault._ Fred is gone because Percy came back.

He tried to do something right. He tried to do the _right thing_, because he's been doing the wrong thing for so very, very long.

But when he finally does the right thing, everything goes _oh-so-wrong_.

He's a walking disaster. Everything he touches crumbles to ash. And normally, that'd upset him, but right now, he's just really, really _pissed off_.

A Death Eater crashes to the ground under his wand. Then another. And another.

A pissed off Percy Weasley is a frightening thing.

And then he catches sight of Rookwood, who slipped away from him in the chaos, and everything sharpens. Everything in his direct line of vision gets clearer, crisper, and everything in the periphery blurs. The world seems to speed up.

Percy weaves deftly through the crowd, grateful, for once, for his exceptional height. He can keep Rookwood in sight easily. Rookwood is backed against a wall, which is smart, because it means he can't be attacked from behind, but also not, because he has nowhere to go. Percy smirks.

He sidles up from the side so that the man doesn't notice him until it's too late. Percy petrifies him.

The rage inside him is cold and dark – Percy's not quite sure there's a limit on what he'd do right now. He's full of ice.

"Hello, Augustus," Percy purrs. Rookwood's eyes widen in terror, but that's the only movement he can manage. "I did mention I'd find you, did I not?"

Rookwood can't respond. Percy grins darkly. "This is for my brother."

But before Percy can even cast a spell, a rough, calloused hand catches his wrist. Percy turns defensively, ready to slip out of the loose hold, but is surprised by who it's attached to.

"Oliver?"

"Finally come back, Percy?" Oliver asks mildly, as though there aren't fatal spells flying all around them. As though he didn't just stop Percy from murdering a man in cold blood.

Percy nods. He and Oliver having been talking every once in a while since Christmas, when Percy finally came to the realization that he was being a complete idiot.

"Apologized?" Oliver asks.

Percy nods again.

"And, what exactly, did Rookwood do to you?" Oliver asks, still with the same mild tone, still ignoring the battle raging around them. A one-track mind, Percy remembers. Oliver has always had a one track mind. And then it catches up to him what Oliver just asked, and Percy crumples.

"Fred," he chokes out. "Fred's dead, because of him."

Oliver's eyes widen, then narrow. "Son of a…" he mutters.

Percy utters a sound that's halfway between a sob and a bitter laugh, but Oliver has known Percy long enough that he knows it means he agrees.

Percy can see Oliver reigning in anger – he spent four years on the same Quidditch team as Fred and George; they were good friends.

"Percy," Oliver says finally. "He may deserve it, but you can't. You can't."

The flame in Percy's eyes tapers out. "He deserves it," Percy rasps.

"I know, Perce. I know."

And at the soft tone of Oliver's voice, Percy finally droops. The adrenaline stops flooding his system, though it's by no means gone, because he'd be unable to stand if it were.

It's at that moment – which is rather convenient for them, really, because neither of them is really paying attention to the battle anymore – that Voldemort's voice echos through the Great Hall.

"_You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery."_

And Percy shudders, but Oliver releases the spell on Rookwood, who tries to scamper, but Oliver stuns him, stating, "The Aurors can have him, when this is over." And when Voldemort is done speaking, Oliver murmurs just one phrase.

"You're not a killer, Percy."

And Percy says in return, "Thank you."


	6. Charlie Weasley

This resides in the same universe as my fic _Charlie's Choice_, though it's easily read without reading that first.

_Charlie Weasley_

It took Charlie a long time – maybe too long – to respond when Bill sent him a Patronus saying, basically, that tonight was the night where everything was coming to a head. _"It ends tonight_," Bill had said.

In the end, though, the Gryffindor in Charlie won out, and he couldn't abandon his family.

Still, he figured one man wouldn't make much difference, so he'd rounded up everyone he could possibly think of and find on short notice – parents, friends, everyone who lived in Hogsmeade. By the time they came stampeding through the gates, though, things were… chaotic, to say the least. Harry Potter appeared to be both dead and missing – though how on earth the boy managed that was beyond Charlie. But then, he always had been one for defying logic.

Still, the death – disappearance? – of their hero didn't seem to have deterred the Hogwarts rebels much, as they were still putting up a rousing fight. The house elves brigade Charlie found mildly surprising, but then, he supposed, Hogwarts was their home too.

Because that's what this is really about, isn't it? Voldemort has taken over a place that has, at one point, been _home _to nearly every witch or wizard in Britain. And that's a line that he shouldn't have crossed, because when someone dares attack _home_, people get angry. People fight harder when it's home that's at stake.

And when Charlie hears his mum curse out Bellatrix Lestrange, he's quite _proud_. People fight harder when family's at stake, too.

He was a little bit late, he finds out later, but Charlie stuns his fair share of Death Eaters in what time he's there.

He freezes, though, when he fights his way to the table in the middle of the hall. His blood runs cold.

_Tonks_.

She isn't – wasn't – Tonks anymore, he knows. She was Nymphadora Lupin. Still, she'll always be Tonks in his head. Tonks, with her vibrant hair and her glowing eyes. He's never met anyone who loved _life_ as much as she did.

She doesn't get to love life, anymore.

And next to her is her husband, and Charlie wonders about the little baby boy, who on this night lost not only his godfather, but his mother and father, too.

And then his gaze travels the rest of the table, and everything goes blurry.

_Fred_.

Charlie knows – because Charlie's always known, somehow – which twin it is lying lifeless on the table. It has nothing to do with the ears. Charlie can't even see both ears from where he's standing. He still knows.

Some sort of spell slices through his left biceps and Charlie is forced to acknowledge the rest of the world again. He throws a stunner at the Death Eater it came from and keeps moving.

There'll be time to dwell on the dead later.


	7. Draco Malfoy

_Warning: two swear words._

_Italics in quotation marks are a direct quote from Deathly Hallows. I don't own it._

_Draco Malfoy_

When he sees Potter lying still in the gamekeeper's arms, Draco's blood runs cold – though not out of any actual concern for the man, of course. Draco knows, though, that Potter is his best chance at getting out of the hell his life currently is. Without Potter, even if the so-called "light" side wins, it won't be easy, it won't be quick, and Draco will see no mercy. Potter, on the other hand, might just be thick enough to forgive Draco.

So if Potter is dead, then, Draco's chances don't look so good.

He holds his expression impassive as the Gryffindors around him yell in horror. He maintains an emotionless façade as Longbottom stupidly stumbles forward, as his aunt mocks the boy derisively, as the Dark Lord causes the Sorting Hat on Longbottom's head to burst into flames.

He holds his face still as he crumbles inside. Apparently that small ember of hope was supporting him more than he'd thought.

And then the world explodes into chaos, and Draco seems to be the only one still watching Potter. He watches – expression still carved in stone – as the boy who is supposedly dead pulls out and Invisibility Cloak and vanishes from view. He's smiling on the inside. This is why he was actually almost all right with the fact that he's pretty much relying on Potter at this point – Potter is oddly reliable, and he's seems to have a stubborn refusal to die.

Draco follows everyone else into the Great Hall, twirling his mother's wand between his fingers, but he doesn't think he'll need it. At this point, he's pretty much nobody. No one cares about Draco Malfoy, not now, not when they've got scores to settle and a battle to end. As long as he's not shooting curses at anyone, no one's shooting curses at him.

He finds a spot near the wall in the center and reclines there, observing everything carefully. He watches stoically as his Aunt Bellatrix dies at the hand of Molly Weasley, which doesn't upset him as much as perhaps it should. But then, she's never exactly been the best of aunts.

Draco thinks he might be the only one not surprised when Potter whips the Invisibility Cloak off with a grandiose flourish. He smirks, loving, as always, the feeling of having known something no one else was aware of.

But then Potter begins to speak, and Draco is frozen in place. His smirk stays put only because he's no longer aware of it – his face is plastic. His insides are ice.

"_Yes, Dumbledore is dead,"_ Potter says with an almost Slytherin tone. He's enjoying the reveal. _"But you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."_

And the ice turns to fire, and Draco is suddenly furious. That year, his sixth year, was _hell_. And it wasn't necessary? He accomplished _nothing_?

Draco burns. That's _cruel_. He went through all of that, and it was _pointless?_

But Potter seems completely unaware that he's just turned Draco's world upside down, and he keeps speaking.

"_The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…"_

And Draco's blood runs cold again. _'No_,' his brain is saying. _'That's not possible. He can't be saying…'_

But then Potter speaks again. _"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."_

And Draco doesn't miss what tense Potter speaks in. _Was._ And he sees _his_ wand, the hawthorn and unicorn hair wand he got from Ollivander when he was eleven, and Draco understands before Potter even says it.

"_Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand."_

And Draco wonders how on Earth this is what it comes down to. Is it really possible that Potter could win this because of _Draco?_ Is it possible that Potter could win because Draco was reluctant to hand his long-time rival over to the cruelest man he's ever known? That because Draco hesitated and Potter escaped with Draco's wand, that Potter now has the upper hand?

Could Draco have, in some way, actually _contributed_?

Now that question makes Draco stop. Merlin, if that's true, he's set, Potter's foolish honor or not. If the Elder Wand obeys Potter, Draco is in the clear.

And Draco watches, muscles tight with tension, as Potter and the Dark Lord shoot simultaneous spells. Potter, the utter fool, chooses a Disarming spell – great Merlin, is the man _honestly_ still using a spell he learned in _second year?_

But then, Potter's always had an insane amount of sheer dumb luck, and Fate doesn't seem inclined to let him down any time soon. He snags the Elder Wand out of the air with a Seeker's reflexes, and the Dark Lord falls with an anticlimactic thump.

Draco breathes a heavy sigh.

It's over.

_It's over_.

He doesn't have to deal with stuffing his pride so far down that it hurts anymore. He doesn't have to bow to a madman. He doesn't have to see his house turned into a thoroughfare for Dark wizards and creatures like Fenrir Greyback. He doesn't have to hear the screams from the basement and feel guilty because self-preservation instincts won't let him help.

It's over.


End file.
